


Soliciting Sanguine

by Scripturience



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blood, M/M, PWP, Rainbow Drinkers, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 02:19:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5650027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scripturience/pseuds/Scripturience
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He really is the undisputed champion of self-denial. Thankfully, he has you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soliciting Sanguine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [colorfulCheshire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/colorfulCheshire/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, darling.

You can’t help but smirk to yourself as you step into the block, seeing him sitting there. His legs are crossed tightly, his posture rigid, and if anyone else hadn’t known better than you, they might have just assumed this was his natural, tense state of being.

You, however, are far more astute. At least when it comes to matters of Kankri Vantas.

And what you’re observing now in his stringent form, his fingers erratically tapping at the cover of the book in his hands, his eyes unfocused and his expression frustrated—is a thirsty rainbowdrinker.

“Doll?” You call out to him as you step towards the couch, the smirk on your lips only widening when he jolts in his seat.

Your suspicions are only further confirmed when you’re met with a terse, irritable, “yes?” his eyes not daring to move from the pages. You merely shake your head out of his line of sight, and saunter your way over to the nutritionblock.

“Anything to _drink,_ babe?” You ask deliberately over your shoulder. You can only shrug to yourself in disappointment when all you get in return is a non-committal grumble of aggravation.

That’s fine, if he wants to play like that. You can work with this. You always do.  

Grabbing something for yourself without particularly paying attention, you leisurely make your way back over to where he’s sitting, only to find that he’s still refusing to look at you. You slide in next to him anyway, setting your beverage down on the coffee table and making yourself comfortable. Not that you’ll need to be, for long.

You slip a practiced arm around his shoulder, and you have to contain any outward amusement at the way he keeps jumping at every little thing, as if he’s barely aware of his surroundings. Really, you aren’t too surprised, though. This isn’t the first time you’ve seen him like this.

“Must be a good book,” you quip knowingly, grinning in satisfaction as you watch his fingers grip tightly at the binding.

“It’s enjoyable enough,” you’re actually impressed with how coherent he’s forcing himself to be, in contrast with his tension “well, it would be if you let me actually _read_ it.”

“Hmm,” you hum, mock-pensively “you normally don’t have any problems with me around, Kanny.”

“I can think of several.”

Okay, ouch. If you weren’t used to his cutting remarks, that one actually would have deterred you. But no matter, you still have a job to do.

“Well I think I can solve at least _one_ of them,” you counter, impressing yourself with your quick recovery.

“I am **fine** , Cronus.”

Your smirk returns to your lips, pleased with how quickly he’s gotten straight to the point. You know he hates when you try beating around the bush like this, which is exactly how you use it to your advantage.

Nonetheless, you’re always thankful to cut to the chase as well, despite how much fun it is to tease him.

“It’s been three days, babe,” you lean down to nuzzle his hair, genuine concern filtering into your voice now.

“And I told you,” he bites out “I’m fine.”

You raise an eyebrow at him and shake your head in your frustration. He really is the undisputed champion of self-denial. Thankfully, he has you.

“You know lying isn’t very nice, Kanny,” your tone is light with the statement, as calling him out like this is always a dangerous move on your part “gonna break my heart over here.”

“Cronus,” finally, he lowers the damn book that he wasn’t even actually reading, his head falling back in his exasperation. He seems like he’s going to try reprimanding you further, before you cut him off.

“You know I’m always okay with it, doll,” you look down at him, voice filled with sincerity as you meet red-tinted eyes. He bites down on his lower lip, exposing sharp fangs to your view, and you decide that you don’t care how reluctant he is, he’s double-killing himself at this rate.

Carefully, you slide your arm around his shoulder lower, tracing the line of his body until it rests in the curve of his waist. With a gentle nudge, you start to maneuver him over to you and into your lap, pleased with yourself when he actually goes along with it. Once he’s situated, you set your hands firmly on his hips and tug his body closer to yours.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” He questions you, only half-defensively.

“Heh,” you flash him a wide grin, tilting your face towards his “just tryin’ to help my baby relax, is all. He seems a little tense.”

He doesn’t say any more as you close the distance between the two of you, taking his lips with yours and relishing in the soft warmth of his body, glad that he’s being a little more agreeable, now. You’re unable to help yourself for long, your hands drifting back to grab a generous handful of your matesprit, drawing an irritated groan from him as he pulls away from the too-brief kiss.

You meet his scowl with a feigned innocent smile, giving him a deliberate squeeze, pulling him flush against you. You’re surprised to already feel the heat of his bulge through the thin fabric of his leggings, your brows nearly arching to your forehead, and it makes you realize how hard this must be hitting him. Your own bulge was well on its way to unsheathed as well, but your normally reserved lover usually takes far more coaxing from you than this.

Ordinarily, you’re one to make the most of things. You love seeing Kankri gradually come undone, his carefully kept controlling chipping away as he loses himself with you. But now, your matesprit needs relief, and you’re the only one who can offer him that.

You reach your thumbs up to curve down into the waist of his leggings, giving them a short tug. He almost looks confused at you for a moment, as if he’s surprised that you’re moving things along so quickly, but he raises his hips off of you nonetheless. Your hungry eyes watch him as he peels the skin-tight fabric off, the shock of red smearing already on his thighs going right to your bulge, prompting you to hum appreciatively.

He moves to sit back on your thighs as soon as he’s disrobed, not even a trace of his usual hesitation or bashfulness towards intimacy lingering in his need. You tug your sweatpants down your legs only as far as you have to, thankful you decided to wear something practical today. The warmth of his body returns to you, and you sigh in relief as the full length of your bulge unfurls.

You smile, gentle and genuine at him as you nudge him closer to you, your bulge already eagerly squirming and searching out his heat. You force yourself to be restrained for once, though, because this isn't about your needs. Kankri inches himself forward, a dark red flush to his heat and the same unfocused look in his eyes as he wraps his arms around your neck, leaning over to rest his face in the crevice of your shoulder.

You groan low in your chest, your eyes squeezing shut when you finally allow yourself to make contact with the intense warmth of his nook. Your control immediately slips, your bulge working its way into the wet heat of your matesprit, prompting him to cry out against you and tighten his arms around your shoulders, his nook already throbbing around you as you enter.

“ _Shit_ , Kanny,” you hiss through your teeth, letting your bulge move of its own accord to writhe and stroke the heated walls contracting around it. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s already as far gone as you, you might have tried to exercise more control right now. But Kankri is no better off, his hips weakly rutting into yours, sending shocks down your spine as you take in the smallest moans and yelps near your ear.

Your hands slide down to cup his ass, squeezing and kneading him and you guide his body to meet your short, small thrusts into him, his hips grinding up against yours. Your bulge begins to move more erratically now, lashing out and writhing in the tight heat enclosing it. You can feel the warmth of his color starting to stain your thighs, probably spreading down your pants as well, but you could honestly care less as you let yourself go with him.

“Babe _, fuck,”_ you pant out, your breathing becoming more labored as your voice filters through a possessive growl “you’re so goddamn **hot** like this.”

He whimpers weakly in response, his nook clenching down around you and drawing a groan from your throat, your hands squeezing him as you through your head back. Neither of you are going to last long at this rate. He’s already far wetter than usual, and clamping down on you like a hot vice of bliss. You can’t be bothered to care, though, especially when your lust-clouded mind remembers this is supposed to be for him in the first place.

Then, suddenly, he’s shifting in your lap, and you know what’s coming next. Without any warning, he finally sinks his teeth into the vulnerable, exposed side of your neck, and you feel yourself lose it. Your orgasm shocks through you all at once, almost drowning out the feeling of him drinking from you as your bulge thrashes against his convulsing nook, filling him with royal violet.

He’s still going as you slowly feel yourself start to come down, your chest heaving with shallow breaths. Your head is rolled back, but he doesn’t seem to care as he feeds, his hands braced weakly against your shoulders. You let him have this as you focus on catching your breath, not really bothered by the sensation. It’s not like you wouldn’t let him even if you were, anyway.

He’s panting when he finally pulls away from you, his slight frame slumping against your chest. You smile down at him, completely unfazed by the sight of your blood dripping from his lips. You slide a hand up to rest in unruly dark hair, running your fingers through it as you both gather yourselves, a faint purr already growing in your chest.

“So,” you begin, your voice husky and out of breath “you were fine, huh?”

You’re so satisfied with how well that went over, that you don’t even complain when the embroidered end of a throw pillow abruptly hits you in the face.

**Author's Note:**

> Call me your new Anne Rice.


End file.
